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RPlog:En Route to Destiny
Main Corridor - Uwannabuyim This is a good sized, round room. To the port is a set of benches in the walls, a little nook, surrounding a holochess table. Beside that, running along the wall to where the short corridor to the fore section is, is a series of terminals and computers, whose primary function is extra-cockpit monitoring; cargo, sensors, weapons control, et cetera. The low bubble of a ceiling is dark, graphite colored, metallic. The floor is much the same, though composed of grates instead of sheeting. To the starboard, there is a door leading into a stateroom for passengers. The ramp of the Uwannabuyim pops open. For it to open so fast is one of Orson's special modifications. Special modifications are everywhere on this ship these days, ranging from that entranceway, to 2SK-MI's new body, to Orson and Jessalyn's relationship. The present, at least as it relates to this ship, is always in motion. Orson's arrival on the ramp is momentarily preceded by a flicker of light and shape, like so many shadowy demons running alongside him and sneaking onto the ship from the large open hangar of Pride-1. If Orson sees them coming in with him, he doesn't seem surprised. However, the broad-shouldered man is visibly scowling and upset. He stomps up the ramp and enters, casting a look around the cabin. "We're leaving," Orson calls in a loud enough voice so that the whole ship and growing crew could hear it. His foul mood precedes Orson onto the ship, making Jessalyn grit her teeth in wary anticipation. She hovers near the holochess board, arms folded and a concerned expression etched onto her face as she turns to look at him stomping into the main hold. "What happened?" she asks, striding a few steps forward. Considering the other occupants of the space station, any number of things could have gone wrong, and ever since her brief encounter with Simon, she's spent most of her time on the ship, wanting to avoid any further contact with the Selas, and dreading what could have occurred between him and Orson. And though she had believed he would never hold Simon's fall against her, she finds herself feeling the familiar pangs of guilt she had after she'd severed Simon's hand and driven him away. "Oh my," Comments TooSock as he struts into the Corridor, a bit wobbly. "Orson, sir, this new body sucks ass," He offers, thoughtfully, and descriptively. He was just trying to fit in. What with being around all of these scummy planets and stations, he had to adopt a more fitting linguistic pattern, or lest he get shot again. At least, that's what he thought. Wobbling, a hand juts out to steady himself against the wall, and the floor. If he could frown in a consternated manner right now, he would definately be doing so. "Oh dear," He offers again, and walks forth more. Until his head falls off, and rolls to come into contact with Jessalyn's foot, eyes forward towards her. "Hello, Miss Jessalyn. So good to see you again," He offers, "I don't supposed you could help me up." "Oh my," Comments TooSock as he struts into the Corridor, a bit wobbly. "Orson, sir, this new body sucks ass," He offers, thoughtfully, and descriptively. He was just trying to fit in. What with being around all of these scummy planets and stations, he had to adopt a more fitting linguistic pattern, or lest he get shot again. At least, that's what he thought. Wobbling, a hand juts out to steady himself against the wall, and the floor. If he could frown in a consternated manner right now, he would definately be doing so. "Oh dear," He offers again, and walks forth more. Until his head falls off, and rolls to come into contact with Jessalyn's foot, eyes forward towards her. "Hello, Lady Jessalyn. So good to see you again," He offers, "I don't supposed you could help me up." Orson is momentarily without breath as he tries to describe the series of events. Detail was mostly unnecessary, between at least these two, so Orson reverts to bullet points. It was easier than struggling through words. "Simon. I had my slicer find the system... and now I can't find my slicer. I'm worried. Simon had the vision too. So." Orson peels off his heavy jacket, the pockets full of little mechanical devices and half-complete projects. The jacket thunks to the ground in the corner, and Orson's shoulder-holster for his lightsaber is revealed beneath his left arm. "So. If we're all aboard, I think it's best if we go." He turns in mid-stride at the sounds of 2SK-MI's voice. "Hey, you're out and about..." the man comments with some alacrity in his tone. His voice trails off as the head thonks off and rolls around, still talking. "We should just mount you on a repuslorlift unit and give you a small grasping appendage. It might be easier than walking. Or just download you into a datapad." "The Simon system, sir?" TooSock asks from the ground. Jessalyn crouches down, frowning both at the abrupt and strange change in the droid's vocabulary databanks, as well as the sudden loss of his head. She picks up the head and turns it to face her, the frown fading into a small, wry smile as she remembers the first time she'd seen TooSock's decapitated head. "You're not doing so well," she observes. "Simon's not a system. But where -are- we going?" With a grimace, she puts the head back onto the neck and adjusts it, working the screws so that it's tightened in place. She spares a slight glance toward Orson, not liking the sound of this at all. "We can leave right away, if you want." "Oh, not a system. Right, then," Socky offers simply. "Orson, that rather sounds like an intriguing idea. Though, I rather like my bodies. They're so much more... versatile, than a grasping appendage would be. Think of the possibilities, however, if you allowed me to attach to my body, and included a repulsorlift. It would be rather useful in tight situations." He pauses. "Excuse the pun." He lets out a metallic chuckle, harshly ended after a moment. "Thank you, Jessalyn," He offers pleasantly, testing out its arms. "Oh, yes. That's quite nice. Whatever it is you're doing, keep doing it," He offers. "I'm not sure exactly where we're going," Orson admits, tapping the bulky datapad that is clipped to his waist. "But I've got some basic coordinates to a system that matches up to a drawing I gave my slicer. He used the..." The mechanic lifts a hand, letting each extended finger match the placement of stars in the constellation he had seen. Orson turns the hand in the air and squints, like he's matching it up. "... stars in the background, from what I saw, and made a best guess." The slim chances that where they're headed could actually be anywhere except empty space settles on Orson, and he gives the droid and Jessalyn a defensive shrug. "I don't know what to expect when we get there, it's nowhere on any star chart that I've got access to." And he's got access to well, most of them. Orson designs fanciful ship systems in his head routinely while he does other things, so giving 2SK-MI's request some serious thought and thinking about the Simon System in the same moment is nothing too difficult. "I think I could come up with that, if Karrde comes up with the cash. Wouldn't be too hard." A now-familiar shiver goes up Jessalyn's spine as she considers the vision they've been chasing. The goal is even more uncertain than their destination, but the dreams that fill her sleep compel her to seek out the source as much as they do the others. If Simon was seeing the vision, too... She shakes herself out of her thoughts and gives TooSock a vague look as she steps back and slides her hands into her pockets. "You're going to turn into another one of his special modifications, you know," she notes mildly, before walking over to Orson and giving him a reassuring smile. "Hey, we're doing the right thing. Even if we don't know where we're going," she says, patting his arm. "You know that, too, I think." It was the Force that assured her of this more than anything else, and she hopes he can find some measure of comfort there as well. "I rather enjoy being special," TooSock notes, simply, towards Jessalyn, as he hobbles about to make sure his legs work properly. "Of course, I have this strange suspicion that being around a bunch of people that don't know where they're going, what they're doing, or how they're doing it, will lead to my untimely demise. Again." And with that, he hobbles into a wall, and falls onto his back. Orson gives a small smile to Jessalyn, and pats the woman on her arm in return. "I think so," he agrees simply, looking the lanky redhead over with admiration but distracted by some persistent thought buzzing around in his head. "I guess Mira and Drew and... Cronos are aboard," Orson says, carefully reciting the names from his list. There were already so many people on board that they had needed to make special provisions in the galley and had to create some 'fresher rules after complaints that the men were leaving the funnel and clips attached all the time. A scribbled sign was now on the door, declaring it 'IN USE' with 'MEN' on one side and 'WOMEN' on the other. All this made even Socks seem like low maintenance. "Whoops," Orson declares, stepping lightly to the droid and grasping him by the shoulder to lift him to a sitting position. "Don't worry TooSockMe. I'm sure your next demise will be more timely." The mechanic isn't above grinning at his own jokes. Stifling a giggle, Jessalyn covers her mouth with her hand. "Go get us out of here, hotshot. I'll take care of him," she says to Orson as she goes over a mental list of things that could be throwing the droid's balance off so badly, and makes for her toolkit which is propped already half-open in one corner of the hold. She plucks a few delicate instruments from one of the tiny drawers, and heads for TooSock, crouching next to the old droid and chewing on her lip. "You won't feel a thing." "I do hope not, Lady Jessalyn," TooSock offers to Jessalyn warily, before peering at Orson. "Timely, sir? Oh my..." He would frown furtively, and whatnot. But, you know. It's just a hunk of metal with a googleplixi for a brain, or something along that line. "So what drives you, Lady Jessalyn? What makes you tick? Why are we going to somewhere where we don't even know where we're going or for a reason we don't really even know about? Are you insane?" He inquires, frankly. Orson makes sure 2SK-MI is mostly steady before removing his hand from the droid's silver body. "I will," the man says across Socks' body, watching her turn to her devices. Standing and hopping gracefully across Socks' outstretched legs, he strides quickly to the cockpit and stands in the doorway a moment, flipping switches madly on the near wall, the routine startup procedure an inconvenience. With one more glance to the pair, Orson disappears into the cockpit. In a few minutes, the Uwannabuyim rumbles and a high-pitched whine fills the room from something beneath one of the deckplates. Being questioned by a droid isn't something that the woman is used to, and she keeps her gaze averted, wondering why she should be so uncomfortable about being perceived by TooSock's ocular sensors. Maybe because in some bizarre way he'd been there all along, only now he was awake and aware enough to observe the things happening around him. "Well," she considers, glancing at Orson as he disappears into the cockpit, and helping the droid to stand and move to the holochess bench where they can strap in for takeoff. Once settled in, she goes to work, prying open a covering on TooSock's back and yanking free a few stray wires. "Sometimes a person has to rely on instinct. It's not something a droid can really understand. But... the Force is driving us to go. There's a reason for it, even if we don't know what it is yet." And it was especially important to get there before.... Swallowing, Jessalyn frowns, intent on her work, and a bank of lights along the droid's front begins to flicker. "The truth, though... I'll go anywhere as long as Orson is there," she murmurs, answering more for her own benefit than TooSock's. "Mmm," TooSock offers quietly, contemplating. "I was programmed, many years ago, with some sort of program type thing, which let me see patterns and whatnot. Really, it was just a strange marketing venture firm that wanted to know when their product would be outdated, but my programming allowed me to extend, and see lots more. Sometimes, I might find vague patterns, and understand that something, somewhere, was going on. Later, I would be able to confirm it via news reports or what have you. Perhaps it's something like that. That you sense these patterns, and you are drawn to them, like a pair of magnets." "Or maybe you're just foolhardily in love with Orson, and consumed by emotions, to see past those," He adds. "Are you programmed for counseling, too?" Jessalyn asks wryly, smiling in spite of herself. She chooses one of her tools and uses it to crank a lever deep inside TooSock's guts, and this time the lights illuminating his ocular sensors fade in and out. "I'm not following him blindly," she points out. "We're of the same mind about it. All of us have Seen it. I'm sure it's the right thing to do, regardless of my feelings." Though her tone may sound defensive, there is an inner calm that permeates her, some objective and powerful insight borne out of her training and skills, that lets her evaluate her motivations apart from her emotions and passions. "Mm, I think I've found the problem," she blurts out suddenly, twisting her wrist into an awkward position as she struggles with a wayward electrode. TooSock peers at Jessalyn for a moment, before peering back up at the wall, as she works him. "I'm not quite sure what you're getting at, Lady Jessalyn, though I have been programmed in a great many things. A large number of them have been blindly removed, though. Of course, not a lot of what I," He suddenly deactivates. En Route to Destiny